Doctor Cassock was, in his day, a most extraordinary man: he was a double-first at Oxford, a scholar, and a gentleman. He was a most benevolent little man, and Doctor Gambado's friend and pastor, both well read and well bred. But he was ever cultivating his inventive faculty to do good. In his visits to the poor, he invented new bed-rests, new cradles, new spring beds, new comforts of every kind. He was a great inventor of puzzle locks,--puzzle keys,--puzzle cupboards, doors, window frames, and fire-guards. In short there was, as he used to say, no device in the grave; therefore, he was ever starting something new. Many a mechanic was indebted to him, and many a printer,--for in his church of St. Mildred's, in the Poultry, he was the first to put aside the old English black-letter character of the Bible and Prayer-book, and to assume the type, which holds fast in all good printing-offices to the present day. His sermons were always new, and were the only things in which he might be said to puzzle nobody; for they were plain, simple sermons of solid truth and practical utility. He loved every soul, and being an acknowledged well-read scholar, he was more popular among his people than anyone who tried to gain popularity. His inventive faculty, had it been in the present age, instead of one hundred years ago, might have procured him the celebrity of a Brunel, and a fortune; but his scheming being always for others, he at last puzzled or puddled his own affairs so as to involve himself and his means in difficulties; and becoming very low spirited, the friend of others had to go and consult Doctor Gambado, and to tell him at once that he came to be a charity patient, for he had not a guinea in the world to give him. "My dear, Cassock," said the Doctor, "in carrying out your various projects, you have forgotten that learning and wisdom should be joint companions; that they are of little worth when separate, but of inestimable value when united." "You speak truth, my dear Gambado; and I find, by experience, that a word of wisdom will often go further than a purse full of guineas. Quite right. But you have known me long enough to observe, that I have ever thought the practical part of my profession superior to all the learned part." "That may be true. But, Doctor, you have not confined either your teaching or your practice to the duties of your profession. I deny not that you have done good to many. You have done me a great deal of good; for, to a certainty, I never knew you preach one thing and practice another. Yet, sometimes, I have known you interest yourself so deeply in imaginary inventions, as to persuade yourself that you were doing good, when you were entirely mistaken." The Doctor sighed, and simply said, "Gambado, we can never all think alike, any more than we can all be alike. You have done right and made your fortune; while my coat is threadbare, and I begin to want."